


The boy of ashes

by royalprincessbon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Delinquent!Jean, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Rating May Change, Teacher!Marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2299397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalprincessbon/pseuds/royalprincessbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How will Jean react to losing the love of his life? Will he ever get his feelings through? What happens when fate bring them together again, will it tear them apart or leave them be? First chapter is a prequel to the story, but also (kind of) a sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> This is the rewritten version of the oneshot http://archiveofourown.org/works/1169912 which is part of my new project. I hope that you guys will stay by my side through this fanfic. God bless

Corpses thrown against the walls, scattered over the rooftops. The buildings that used to look so lively now only reminded people of the end, of the death that awaited them all. Eaten, or ripped into pieces. Spewed up on the street in big balls of yellow. Their last emotions still readable on their faces; fear, of death and the enormous beings that hunted them. The monsters that penetrated the wall which had stood for over a hundred years.

The survivors walked the streets now, it had been a victory. But unfortunately it had been an expensive one. So many of them had lost their lives, so many had lost a family member. Fathers and sons, even daughters; lost, gone.  _Dead._ The only positive thing was that the Titans were gone, for now. The had won the battle which they had thought were lost since they wall breached five years earlier.

Positioned in the center of the mess was a soldier, a boy named Jean. Clearing up the streets and identifying corpses were his, and many others, duty. The only thing he hoped for was that he wouldn't find someone he knew. As he walked the streets of doom that was the only thing he could think of. Everything would be alright as long as he didn't find that someone with freckles.  _Of course_ _he wouldn't find the freckled boy._ _  
_

...  **He was so wrong.**

Jean couldn't do anything else but stare at the corpse in front of him, the only thing left of his best friend. The remains of his massacred body stared up at him, judging him with his cold and empty eyes. 'Why weren't you here when I needed you? Why didn't you save me?' A shiver crawled up Jean's spine, made him shudder. "Ma-Marco...?" He swallowed hard. It was not possible, it couldn't possibly be Marco, just some random dude who looked just like him. It was not his Marco, not his Marco. At least that's what he tried to convince himself of. But he knew.

He knew the man on the street, with his half-eaten body thrown against the wall. He'd watched his sleeping face for so long, seen his face twisted in pain and fear. Seen him all happy and giggly. He'd been by his side at nights when the memories of his former home kept him awake, comforted him while holding back his own tears. Always always by his side, together forever. Just like it always been, but it isn't. Not anymore. Yet while looking at Marco's body, he kept telling himself it was just a bad dream; a terrible nightmare. That he'd wake up in the morning and Marco would be smiling at him like always. He'd be looking at him with his with the same friendly expression as usual. With the same caring look in his eyes. And this time Jean would do it. But the dream never ended.

He opened his mouth, reaching out his shivering hands towards the older male. "Hey, wake up..." Jean let his fingers slide over Marco's cold body, over his freckled face. "Marco..." He leaned down, closed the distance between them. "Don't leave me Marco." The brunette kept staring back at him; cold, empty, dead. "Ma..." The rest of his name got cut off as Jean began to sob. "Please Marco, I beg you... Don't die." Tears slowly began to sipper down his cheeks. He cried out his name, over and over. Reminiscing about the past, the time they shared. He sat down beside the crippled body, took Marco's left hand in his. "You know, I never got to say it when you were alive. But I..." He slowly began, closing his mouth halfway into the sentence. It was no longer any idea to tell him. He was already gone.

* * *

A freckled angel stood in front of the mourning boy, smiling sadly. Before he knew it he was kneeling down, and embracing the man sitting side by side holding hands with his corpse. "Stupid, I already know what you are going to say. I figured it out ages ago." He murmured softly into the blondes ear. "I knew it, but never said anything at all. I... I pretended to not know. Pretended to be asleep. Pretended to not feel..." He blinked just to feel how the tears started flowing down his transparent face, dripping on Jean's shoulder as he whispered everything into his ear. "The only regret I have in life, is not telling you my own feelings..." Slowly he moved his face and lightly brushed against the other boy's lips with his own. "... and I will never ever get the chance to." Slowly disappearing "Farewell my love... Until we meet again."

* * *

"Hurry up or you'll be late again!"

The morning sun lit up the blonde boy's room. Shining in through the window, followed by a soft summer breeze. A man stood by the opened window, hands on his hips. Bending forward just a few degrees, waiting for the younger boy to get up. "Yes! yes.. just a few more minutes.." The boy mumbled, still half asleep. Still hugging his pillow. "Jean Kirschtein, get out of your bed this instance or there will be consequences!"

The blonde opened his eyes, "Like what..?" he whispered. Slowly, carefully. Afraid of the answer. The brunette didn't answer. "What kind of consequences?!" Marco grinned like the cat which ate the canary, "... no more kissing."

"Fuck you Marco." He cursed.  
"Oh what a tempting idea!" He chuckled and sat down at Jean's bedside, leaning in to kiss him. Laying a hand on his thigh, gently. Breathing on the other's lips, "It's such a great idea I'd love to accept, except I'd be the one fucking your pretty little behind; turning you into a moaning mess..."

"Try me.."  
"Get out of bed Jean."


	2. Dreaming of an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean having nightmares and writing down the things he "knows" about the freckled boy called Marco.

Watching the same scene over and over, the same terrifying view. The same empty streets every time, the same block. Big buildings staring back at him. Huge being rumbling through the city, waiting for the opportunity to take a bite. Gigantic human-like things having his friends for a snack, eating them. Even though they did not need to feed, only doing it because of pleasure. For fun. Because they can.

The blonde knew he were safe for the moment, inside of the abandoned building. But he were afraid. Who wouldn't be after seeing all his friend get eaten by those weird things. He was gasping for air, feeling his body trying to make up for the lack of oxygen. Trying to calm himself down, to force his body to stop shaking so violently.

"Why am I the one slowing us down?" He looked down at his wrecked 3D maneuver gear. Steps, or more like the sound of runaway horses, was heard outside. He turned his face and looked outside the window, an enormous male being walked past him. There was no way he would make it to through the day, no way he'd survive. He could only wish for help from any of his 'friends'. But no help came and it never would.

Still looking out through the bloody window he noticed a body and the hope giving items that was hanging on its hips. He needed /that/, he needed the maneuver gear to get out of there so leaving the wasted equipment was not an option, the dead could not save the rest of humanity. Neither could he, but hopefully he could save his own skin.

"Can I really come up with something?" The frightened blonde shivered at the thought, even though he knew that there was more hope than before. There was only one solution to this. He had to risk his life for the ability to save it, to save many others. The blonde left the building and carefully started to run towards the immobilized soldier. Striving to reach the maneuver gear that would be his way out of this doomed situation.

"I can't wait until they're gone! No way!" The blonde made it to the corpse without any interferences.

Blood was sailing down over him, in the form of both rain and cherry blossoms. He knew they were coming and he had to fight them, the titans.

Something was different this time, instead of engaging in battle at the warehouse, he was walking along the empty streets of Trost. A dust-cloth covered his face, acting as a mask. He, and a few other soldiers, were counting the corpses. Usually things faded away before this, but somehow the dream continued.

He felt despair watching the lifeless dolls with torn limbs. He knew that he weren't a better soldier than any of these guys, it had been pure luck that he had survived. He recognized a few of the corpses from his old squad. He mourned them quietly, but he knew that this had been their destiny ever since joining the military. It was his destiny, and there was no escape from it. The only way out was to join the Military Police and fight for the king.

Sunset got closer and closer. It had been a long day and they had counted to 207 deaths or disappearances and 897 wounded. It had been a blow to humanity, but at least they had closed up the hole. At least it was a small victory, but none thought of celebrating it.

Jean sighed, even though an entire day had passed there were even more streets to search, more corpses to count, to name. The blonde saw another uncounted corpse and walked up to it, only to become filled with terror.

"Hey..." He stared at the corpse, ripped in half. "You're... Marco?" In front of him he found the one person he didn't want to find, wrecked and limbless. He started trembling uncontrollably. His hands seemed to live a life of their own as he could not stop them from shaking. His eyes still drawn to the corpse, to the empty shell of what once were his best friend. His beloved soul mate.  
 _His lover..._

**"MARCO!"** The sweat drenched boy screamed and threw himself up. The remains of tears had dried on his face yet he couldn't seem to remember why he had cried. The remains of a name still on his lips, the name of a boy. A boy he didn't know. Still the boy haunted his memories, or more like somebody else's memories. He knew they weren't his own, he was not born into an age where people fought for their lives to avoid these 'titans' as they called them. He was born in late 20th century where the only thing threatening humanity was humanity itself. He was born into an age where men killed men, where murder and war happened regularly.

There were peace and people loved, but to him it felt like nothing more than a fake façade. He didn't love, he didn't even feel. Everything was dark, it was empty. It was easy to pretend though. Pretending that he were something he wasn't, someone he wasn't. He didn't have any friends since he never bothered to talk to people, not that he really cared. He was fine on his own, at least he pretended to think so. To be honest, he sometimes thought it was a bit lonely. The only time he felt alive were when huge conflicts threatened them, when people really stood together. Fought together.

But that only happened in books. In his own fantasy bubble filled with stories of heroes and aliens. It happened in his books, and in his nightmares. The nightmares which reminded him of something that seemed like a previous life. But it could be nothing else but dreams.

The nightmares that he, Jean Kirstein, had begun to scribble down just to comprehend that they were nothing but dreams. Bits and pieces, the things he remembered when he woke up. But mostly about this guy called Marco. The list of things he knew about the character Marco was getting longer and longer after each night. Tonight he remembered that Marco and this other guy Armin usually hung out together discussing the theory and history of the maneuver gear while maintaining them, he also figured out that 'Jean' usually was jealous of Armin. Of course it wasn't really the 'remember' as when you remember about something that happened, it was more like he 'remembered' what happened in the dream.

After grabbing the nearby notepad Jean slipped down under the covers again and turned over to lay on his stomach. What had happened this time..? What made him shed tears, who had died..? First the graduation ceremony, then the breach of wall Maria, him finding the massacred body of the boy which he loved. Him finding out about Marco's secret love for dandelions. Putting Marco's body on the pile with corpses. Trying to find his ashes.

Oh! How could he forget that... Jean drew another bullet disc and carefully chose his words for the next piece of information: "Marco has exactly 274 freckles over the entirety of his perfectly shaped body." He voiced it out as he wrote it; softly, gently, lovingly. Reminiscing about that time when 'he' counted them all. Those were the days! He chuckled lightly, feeling his face heat up in a very pleasant way. Feeling the remains of his nightmare slowly fade away like clouds on a sunny day. Once his mind was at peace he felt how his eyes finally began to drop on their own and then he fell; back into the land of dreams...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look what we have here... It seems like Jean believes that none of it happened. "Did it, or did it not?" is the real question though. Keep reading and you'll find out! xxx RPB


	3. Reminiscing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will meeting someone from a dream affect Jean and why does it smell like dandelions? (AN: It does not actually smell like dandelions, ever.)

The next time Jean woke up it wasn't because of some dream, but because of someone shouting his name from outside the door. "Jean? Are you up?" He didn't answer, he was still stuck between dreams and reality. The drowsiness caught him once more in its web of warmth, the comfort of it made him turn over and tuck himself under the covers again.

"Jean, wake up." A woman said from outside the door. Knocking gently, stepping inside his room. "Just 5 more minutes..." He mumbled in his sleep."Get up now or I'll give all of your breakfast to Eren." The voice seemed closer now, like she was inside his dreams speaking directly to him.

"Jean... Get your fat ass out of bed!" The girl growled from the end of the bed as she pulled of his covers. He screamed like a baby sloth and rose with the speed of a chipmunk, eyes wide open. "What the hell Mikasa!"

"I told you at least ten times Jean. We're leaving in 20 minutes." Then she turned her back to him and left just as quickly as she had pulled away the warmth and feelings of security hidden beneath his blanket.

He gazed over at the alarm clock and it took him about 5 seconds to put the pieces together. "Holy hell!" He shouted as he pushed himself off of the bed and stumbled over to the closet, hitting his left little toe in the process. "Fuck! Shit!" He cussed as he blinked his eyes and tried to breath slowly. Time seemed to stand still.

"Hey horseface!" Jean opened his eyes and stared down at the green-eyed brat also known as his adoptive brother Eren. "What is it Eren?" He cocked his head to the side and stared at him, openly showing his annoyance. A sudden flash of pain hit him as Eren kicked his shin. "Mikasa said she'll kill you if you're late again." He shouted on his way out, already dashing down the stairs. The sound of tumbling, a large  _CRASH_  and a girly scream made Jean forget the anger. His thoughts went directly to Mikasa, did she hurt herself when Eren fell down the stairs? Did Eren fall on her? He quickly pulled up his jeans and grabbed a fresh t-shirt.

"Are you okay? Eren... Eren!" He heard Mikasa from the bottom floor and quickly deducted that Eren was the only one in pain. He may be an annoying kid, but he was still Jean's precious little brother. His gaze was automatically thrown at his study desk, checking to see if he still had the first aid kit left there after Eren's last accident. He breathed out and two steps later he had it in his hands, waiting to be used. The two-toned haired boy left the room and crossed the hallway on the way to the staircase and in less than 10 seconds he was crunching at Eren's side at the bottom of the wooden stairs. He turned to Mikasa, questioning. "What happened?" She just shook her head slowly, "I don't kno-"

Muffled laughter came for the seemingly unconscious boy. A laugh that soon turned into hysterical giggling. "Oh my god, you should have seen your faces!"

"I am so going to kill you one day." Jean groaned before getting up.

* * *

"Listen up class! I know this is a bit sudden, but I am getting married in a few days. This sadly means that I will quit my job as a teacher. But fear not, I have already found an exceptional replacement!" She paused and Jean could hear the sound of a door opening. He couldn't care less about his teacher quiting, and even less about getting a new teacher. "Mr. Bodt, why don't you introduce yourself?"

The blonde stared out of the window, still not giving a single fuck. Okay, maybe the name did sound a bit familiar but not enough for him to care.

"Ehm.. Hi! The name's Marco Bodt and I'm going to be your new homeroom teacher for this year." As their new teacher spoke Jean felt a sting of recognition. There was something about the tone in his voice, a voice Jean had almost forgotten about. He turned his head, facing the man with that familiar voice. "I'm fond of history and really, really likes dandelions."

Jean took a deep breath and stared at the freckled brunette. Tears swelling up from his eyes, threatening to break down the wall which hid his forceful emotions. Threatening to show his feelings of grief and fear, but most of all; his relief. He reached up and swiped the wet mess away quickly before anyone else noticed.

The girls in his class were squealing and the boys were silently groaning, but all the fake-blonde noticed was the fairness of his new teacher's skin. He noticed the freckles, wondering how many they were, and as he did so Marco answered. "Oh, you mean the freckles. I had them counted once.." He said and chuckled, ".. and I've got exactly 274 of them!"

274... The number hit him like Eren had hit the bottom of the stairs earlier that morning. It was quick, painful and all he wanted to do was scream. He wanted to weep and he wanted to get the picture of a half-eaten body out of his head. He wanted to run away from the stench of burning flesh that all of a sudden seemed to fill the room.

How was this even possible? This man, was supposed to be nothing but a character in his nightmares. A fragment of something his brain came up with to scare him. He wasn't supposed to stand right in front of him, looking so real and so-

The bell rang.

"That ends today's homeroom." Jean could hear it in the back of his head, together with the sound of moving chairs and gossip. He got up slowly and shoved his books back into his bag, getting ready to skip the next class. He felt rally crappy and he kept having flashbacks from his dreams. But the moment he was supposed to exit the room a voice reached out to him.

"You're Jean right?" The smooth voice said.

"Eh, yeah. What is it to you?" He replied and turned around swiftly, only to find himself gazing into those deeply brown eyes again. "Oh, it's just you."

"Do you address all of your teachers with 'just you'?" Marco looked amused.

"I'm sorry Mr. Bodt, you're just so familiar. Like I knew you, a very long time ago." He spoke while meeting Marco's gaze. The brunette chuckled, hiding his confusion. "What do you mean, 'knew'?"

The blond shook his head and smiled wryly. "That's just it. I used to know you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update may, or may not, take a while. It depends on when my writers block let up, but also on how much homework I get from school.


End file.
